


The Snowchild

by Piff



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Believing is Seeing, Family, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piff/pseuds/Piff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belief is a powerful tool, providing you believe enough. Pitch is tired of being alone and maybe.. just maybe.. this will work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

It takes an incredibly lonely person to think that maybe... just maybe... a children's bedtime story could have some truth to it.

Pitch patted the snowball into a rounded shape, turning it over in his hands. 

Believing was seeing, right? To see you had to believe in it... that’s how it worked.

Antarctica was cold, making his breath puff out in white clouds.

It would be something to occupy his time, a hobby of sorts. Not like he’d actually expect something to happen if he tried. He was bored, not... he merely had too much time on his hands.

Pitch stooped down to pick up more snow, squashing it between his hands to make sure it firmly stuck together, not quite round but more oval now.

It was a bedtime story for moon’s sake! Something to tell a child so that it would finally be quiet and go to sleep!

There was a hint of a face in his project, what could have been a nose there. Ears on the side. 

He was far too old to participate in such silliness. He should throw the snow away and go back to plotting how to ruin the lives of the Guardians. This was a game more befitting that ridiculous Santa Clause.

Pitch stared at his sculpted handful, fingers cupped carefully. 

Believing was seeing.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	2. Chapter One

Pitch found himself returning to Antarctica to work on his project, finding it so perfect for his needs. 

It was far from human contact and the prying eyes of spirits that depended on such, and even for those spirits that did not, it would have been impossible to find the small cave. It was easy to connect one of Pitch’s many tunnels to the icy tundra, to a spaced carved in the ice as a workshop. 

He had expected it to be dead silent for being so completely devoid of life, but in reality it was rather noisy with the wind howling by the cave entrance. Pitch did not mind. In fact, he’d added a few strategic carvings to the ice that made the wind go higher and lower in a spine-tingling tune. 

His worktable was wood as metal grew too painfully cold under such conditions. And the snow heaped upon it was near blindingly white in Pitch’s hands, making the ashy color of his skin stand out all the more.

Snow was such a wonderful a medium; ice was more elegant to look at but brittle and shattered easily under stress. Snow was softer, more flexible. More forgiving towards mistakes.

His project needed time, a lot of time. He had never looked to the arts as a hobby before now and he had no teacher to guide him along the way. He was forced to make it up as he went along, finding which tools suited best and how far he could push the snow before it crumbled.

Pitch also found himself benefitting from his new obsession in ways he had not expected. Nightmares were becoming more powerful as he was able to tweak them into more foreboding shapes, changing them as needed from child to child. The base shape of a horse was nice but if there was a deeper fear of… say... a dog or rat then the Nightmare could be reshaped as such. And that basic shape too grew better by the day, ridged and dangerous looking rather than a mere common animal. These were special. These were true Nightmares, carriers of the corrupted dreamsand. 

And all because of the time Pitch spent sculpting snow. It was laughable.

Eyebrows drew together in a frown as he studied his latest addition. Subtraction? The eyes had been just slightly too big for the small face and now they were perfect as he carved away just a small bit, working carefully so as to not dislodge any of the thread-fine eyelashes.

Pitch sighed as he stood up straight and moved away from the table. He was near finished. Years of work, of obsession, and he was close to having completed the project. And yet he was afraid to make that final mark. The last detail needed to make the project without flaw. 

Pitch was afraid and that was such an absurd thing he could barely stand it. Him! The Nightmare King! Afraid of some paltry snow that he could smash with a single hand!

Except... he wasn’t. He was not afraid of the snow itself laying there so innocently. He was afraid of so much time and attention spent on an idea that would never work. Obsessing over creating the perfect shape for something that would never live. Why would it? Why would the eyes open for their first sight and lips part for their first breathe, just because Pitch desired it to?

With these thoughts Pitch found himself unable to work on his project for days, instead throwing himself into the dreams of children until they woke up screaming. Until the very mention of sleep brought on hysterical tears. He drank in the fear like a man starving and wallowed in the power it gave him.

Until he couldn’t stay away any longer.

Until the heart he wasn’t supposed to have felt like it was breaking from abandoning his project like it meant nothing.

He knew he was lost when his hand gently stroked the smooth snow, fingers brushing over the doll-like nose and cheeks. It was as perfect an infant as he could create, curled up on the table and sleeping peacefully. 

“I’m sorry Jack, I won’t do that again. I won’t leave you all alone.”

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

Then... the project was complete.

And Pitch felt like the greatest fool as he stood there staring down at the table.

What had he been expecting? That he could magically bring to life a statue of snow because he had hoped for it?

He found himself roaming around the room, unable to relax and instead felt jittery and nervous. Pitch had vague, very vague, memories of his life before he became Pitch Black but he knew one of the happiest memories left to him was when he’d held the body of his tiny daughter in his hands. Newly born and absolutely beautiful, more beautiful than the stars themselves glittering in the sky high above.

No less beautiful or tiny in his hands was the sculpture on the table, a boy because nothing could ever replace the daughter of his heart. 

This was not the first time Pitch had picked up the icy body, but he was just as careful now as he had been that very first time. To accidently break it now... Pitch shuddered and made sure to hold it close to him. Slightly bigger than a newborn and lacking the squashed-frog face that graced most of them, which was cheating perhaps but Pitch didn’t think anyone would care to point that out.

And if he had his way, no one would ever have the chance to see infant to point it out anyways. 

Pitch’s wandering feet took him to the front of the cave, where the wind lay quiet and still. He brushed his lips over the smooth brow. He was such a fool. How could he have believed he deserved this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautifully Beta'ed by Shinku <3


	3. Chapter Two

_Chapter Two_

The snow under his lips felt... different. Just as smooth and just as cold, but… changed. 

Pitch pulled back, and thought at first the snow was crumbling away. The wisps of hair he’d spent so much time carving into individual strands seemed to just... fluff. He had no other way to describe it. The icy locks fluffed away from the rounded scalp and stirred in the breeze like normal hair should. 

Pitch felt his throat go tight, leaving him incapable of words as his head jerked up towards the night sky. The moon was full and round, making the snow and ice in front of the cave almost glow. 

He’d not... he’d not thought to ask... He didn’t deserve this. 

Pitch wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry when the infant stirred in his arms, arms flexing slowly and fingers curling. Gaze falling down he watched the tiny chest take its first breathe. He was still unable to speak a single word when eyes pale as the dawning sky fluttered open and wide.

He hadn’t considered an eye color while carving; he’d been too focused on the parts he could see. Blue was perfect. There was no other color more fitting for this child born of snow. 

He held the infant closer, moving the pale body to the crook of an arm and wrapping the edge of his robe around the tiny body. He... he knew this. He knew to brace the head attached to a neck weak as thread. He knew to tilt the infant upward so that a cheek was pressed into his shoulder and feet pointed down. 

The infant- Jack. This was Jack. Jokul Frosti if Pitch felt like being formal, but this was Jack. His Jack.

Jack snuffled against the black cloth, letting out a kittenish mewl and Pitch couldn’t help but look towards the moon one more time.

“He will be well cared for,” murmuring his promise. He had no other words to give for this gift, his tongue felt heavy as stone. He’d never considered the Tsar could be so… compassionate? Forgiving?

Retreating from the bright glow of the moon, Pitch pulled on a shadow to further wrap Jack away from the cold wind that continued to run past. He would leave the icy room and the spiky towers as they were. Jack would have a frozen place to play if he stayed close to his roots and needed the chill but Pitch was taking him home to the catacombs. Where Pitch knew he could protect Jack the best. Could keep him hidden.

Benevolent as the Tsar was, Pitch didn’t think his precious Guardians would be so trusting as to leave an infant with the Nightmare King. Until Jack was old enough to protect himself, Pitch would keep him a secret and safe.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Pitch had nothing to wrap his new son in but a blanket made from a shadow torn off the floor. It reminded him that he was going to need to find a way to get real baby blankets. And clothes. He had nothing to dress Jack in, and that was not something he could ask someone else to make without rousing suspicion.

For that matter, he had nothing for Jack to sleep in.

Nor did he have anything for food. 

And what in the name of the M- in the name of his shadows was he going to do with Jack when he needed to go out?

No. One thing at a time. Jack was content wrapped up in his blanket, and was sleeping quietly in Pitch’s arms. A sleeping infant did not need clothes or food; he only needed a place to sleep. That would be the main priority for now. If Pitch was remembering correctly Jack would be spending most of his time asleep and so a good comfortable bed was going to be very important. Yes.

Until he could find (or even craft) a cradle fit for his son to sleep in, a deep stone basin would have to suffice. One deep enough to hold plenty of blankets to cushion the hard rock, and not allow Jack to roll right out. Pitch had blankets enough on his own bed, and if he did not worry about squashing the infant or him falling off, he would have just let Jack sleep there and be done with it. No, Jack needed his own bed even if it was a simple stone bowl.

And if Pitch considered the chilly aura coming from the crook of his left arm, then a thick layer of snow under the blankets may be a wise idea also. 

It took time for the right things to be gathered, but soon enough Pitch was slowly lowering Jack into the nest of blankets and snow, trying not to jostle the infant awake. A fist was tightly wrapped around the edge of the shadow so Pitch left it there. It was soft as silk and would not hurt him. In fact, it would be a good barrier against the rougher blankets of wool.

Pitch stood there for a moment to just watch. Jack’s pale skin almost glowed against the black blankets and grey stone, the cloth edges shifting under a light breeze that had trailed them from Antarctica. His tiny chest was just barely moving with each cool breath.

Babies needed... so many things. Where in the world was Pitch going to get a goat, and keep the goat alive, in order to have fresh milk? How was he to get the milk from the goat and into Jack? And clothes, did infants this young need shoes? Would an infant carved from snow need to be bound in swaddling clothes? Hats to keep his head warm? Worst of all, what if the Nightmares took him as one of the regular children and gave him terrifying dreams so that he woke up screaming?

Hands gripping the edge of the stone cradle tightly, Pitch struggled to suck in air against the tight bands around his chest. He was so unprepared. He had nothing. And infants were so -delicate-.

How was he going to do this? Did he dare do this at all?

…yes.

There was nothing he wanted more.


	4. Chapter Three

_Chapter Three_

The first few days with Jack were not going entirely to plan. Pitch knew it was going to be difficult adjusting to an infant’s needs, and that one as special as Jack would be harder (or should it have been easier?) but he had not expected it to be this hard. 

Common sense said if an infant was crying out of hunger, then you needed to feed the infant as soon as possible.

Common sense was useless if everything fed to that same crying infant was thrown back up moments later, to the utter misery of both Jack and Pitch. 

Pitch was at his wits end, walking back and forth with the sobbing infant who’d grown hoarse after all the hours of howling. Between the tears and bouts of sickness, Pitch now began to fret about the infant getting dehydrated and becoming more ill. If that was even possible.

Pacing the workroom was an attempt to comfort Jack by surrounding him with ice and snow and the howling wind outside, yet it was not having an effect. Well, a good affect. If anything, Jack was even more upset now than before and Pitch felt like he was unraveling. What was he doing wrong?

The turning point came as Pitch decided they might as well go back to his own more comfortable room, where he could try another desperate run through his books for an answer. Just before he phased out of the workroom and into his usual living quarters, Pitch impulsively scooped up a handful of cold snow and offered it to the miserable boy in his arm. 

And for the first time all day the hallways and rooms (and not to mention Pitch’s ears) were filled with quietness as Jack mouthed the snow peacefully. Pitch was not sure if it was because it was cold and numbed his belly, if it was because he was that thirsty, or if it was because Jack had been born from a winter element and all he required was more of the same and Pitch really should have tried that first.

Or should he have? Babies needed nutrients and vitamins, real food. Just... not this particular baby apparently.

Jack’s snow did not last long, and it was not because it had melted but because he had managed to eat it all out of Pitch’s hand. Pale blue eyes blinked up at Pitch once… twice... and now Pitch was carrying a sleeping infant instead of a screaming one. The amount of relief Pitch could feel coursing through his body was almost unbearable.

A nap would do them both good, but after such a long day of misery and worry he didn’t want to put Jack in his cradle just yet. Instead he tucked Jack and his shadow blanket into the middle of the big bed and then curled around the tiny body. Though he might wake up with an aching neck and back from the awkward position, if Jack woke Pitch would know it.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

Pitch woke with a wince and slowly stretched his cramped muscles, arms held up above his head and back arched. Dropping them with a sigh he turned to look at his son. 

He rolled the odd words through his mind again. His son. HIS son. His SON. Yes, he could get used to that.

He looked down at his son, and since the boy was still asleep with Pitch now wide awake, he tackled the next problem on his list. Baby clothes. He could not just let a naked infant roam around his halls. Not that he would let an infant roam around at all, but most certainly not a naked one. 

Though Jack seemed happy enough wrapped in his shadow blanket, whimpering if Pitch tried to take it away no matter how soft the offered replacement was. But a blanket was not clothing and this would be fixed now that there had been sleep and food. 

Pitch rubbed his tired eyes. Centuries of laziness and doing as he pleased when he pleased had broken hard against the last few days of almost non-stop moving and learning and adapting to the needs of one extremely small being. It was almost ridiculous how one so tiny should create so much chaos. And yet, here they were…

Too young to lift his own head as of yet, Pitch was careful when picking Jack up to cradle him against his shoulder. Going back to the problem at hand, what did babies of this age wear? Pitch had not paid much attention to those too young to know of him. The best and simplest course of action would be to go out and look.

But what would he do with Jack?

Pitch turned to the darkest corner of the room and crooked a finger to beckon the lurking creature closer. Kill two birds with one stone, he would formally introduce Jack to the Nightmares and he would make sure they knew he was not to be harmed. 

Surely out of a flock counting into the hundreds, there must be one or two smart enough to not eat the infant… Pitch wouldn’t be gone all that long. If people could leave their small children alone with a mere dog, than a much more intelligent Nightmare would be a thousand times better.

He eyed the Nightmare as a muzzle reached out to sniff the back of Jack’s head, ears pricked forward and curious. The moment black sand drifted out from the horse towards the infant, Pitch whacked the muzzle with his hand, reaching up to twist an ear hard and bring the large head towards him.

“Listen closely. Harm this child in any way, and I will dismantle each and every one of you. Even if I have to rebuild the herd from scratch, understand me? He is my son and you will respect him as your Prince.”

It would of course take a reminder or two before it sank in that Jack was off limits to their skills, but Pitch was sure they would learn. Eventually. Perhaps painfully. But they would learn or they would be destroyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this early to make up for not having anything for Bye Bye Birdy. I will eventually! Promise! Just... not right now.   
> I've been a lil busy.


	5. Chapter Four

_Chapter Four_

 

Pitch wrestled the boy onto his lap, holding the squirming body against his chest with one arm, using the other to fight one protesting foot at a time to get the shoes on. Jack was not shy about making his displeasure known, though he stuck to angry yells instead of tears as Pitch managed to tie the laces tightly. “You need your shoes Jack, there are too many rocks on the ground and you’ll get hurt.”

 

Jack apparently did not agree, pointing at his feet with an angry squeal.

 

“This is not negotiable.” He did not feeling at all silly talking to the infant as if he could understand. ‘Baby talk’ would be the downfall of civilization as he saw it. “You will wear them and get used to them and it will be fine.” Trying to set the boy on his feet did not work; the boy just went boneless and refused to move, except for bringing a foot up to gnaw on the shoe.

“Stop that! Do you know what has been on the floor? That is not sanitary.” Pitch pried the shoe away from Jack’s mouth and nearly got hit in the eye by a flailing fist. Feet drummed against the hard floor, rug disregarded, and when that did not make the shoes come off Jack let out an even louder squeal of baby fury.

Pitch was fully prepared to sit there on the floor and suffer the tantrum. He was not going to lose an argument with an infant! It would set a bad example for later when Jack was older and more demanding. However, the flair of blue light going from Jack’s hands to the shoes was certainly not something he’d expected to deal with.

The soft leather boots laced up over Jack’s ankles were first covered in a layer of frost, and as Pitch watched on with a stupefied expression, the leather started to freeze and crack and then actually shatter into hard little slivers to coat the area around them.

Jack wiggled his bare toes with a delighted coo while Pitch sighed.

He tilted the boy’s head back so they could look eye to eye and “do not think this is the end of things, young prince. You will not win this war.”

Jack just stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry.

 

\-------------------------------------

 

Kneeling down to Jack’s height, Pitch tucked pale hair under the black hood and buttoned the collar snugly. Jack grinned at him with small, pearly teeth and raised his arms in a plea to be lifted. Pitch did not mind at all doing so, the toddler hardly weighed more than a snowflake and fit easily in the crook of his left arm still.

And with how slowly Jack was aging, he’d likely be small enough to carry for a good long time. Pitch had no complaints that at close to 40 years old Jack was about the size of a two year old human toddler. He loved to carry Jack, head tucked under his chin and small arms around his neck. Jack smelled like freshly fallen snow and cold riverstones. It did not sound like the most appealing scent if he was forced to say it aloud, but it was Jack.

The icy fingers against the back of Pitch’s neck made him shiver, but soon forgot about them as he sent out Nightmares to have a look around first. Going outside to play in the moonlight and snow and trees was such a treat for the boy, but they still had to be careful. Pitch was not going to give any Spirit or Guardian a reason to come snooping around.

Batting away the small breeze that seemed to accompany Jack wherever he was, Pitch left the lair to stand under a thick clump of trees. He hushed Jack as the toddler started to speak up to listen carefully with his head tilted to one side. His Nightmares, gifts stolen from the Sandman, were not perfect. They could have missed something.

No. It was all beautifully still and quiet. Good.

Now he could swing Jack down to the ground and shoo him away to play in the thick layer of snow. The pond off to the side in the small meadow was frozen solid and safe as can be, not that the Nightmares would allow anything to happen. Not these three, covered in frost marks all over their legs and noses where Jack liked to grab on. Tails too now turned blue with frost as Jack latched onto the long black strands to be towed across the ice. 

Jack’s skills did not confine themselves to merely freezing his boots off. No, everywhere he went he left little frost footprints and handprints. He had been aptly named. Though Jack had yet to remove the newest set of black boots bound to his feet, Pitch knew that there was plenty of time for an ‘accident’ to happen. 

It was fine. It was all fine. It was even kind of cute all the frost trails and ice marks. And made it much easier for Pitch when he lost the boy in his labyrinth of a home. Though it took him a while to realize the Nightmares were losing Jack on purpose, that his large, terrifying Nightmares were actually -playing- with Jack in some sort of strange Hide and Seek where Jack was never found and the Nightmares willfully ignored all incriminating signs he left behind. 

Pitch wasn’t sure he understood, but decided it didn't much matter in the grand scheme of things. The Nightmares were keeping Jack safe and happy and that’s what Pitch cared about. 

So all in all, seeing them playing in the snow was perfectly normal. And adorable.

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

“Now how did you get up there?” Pitch lifted the barefoot boy from the top of the bookshelf and settled Jack on his hip. 

Jack just giggled and pointed up at the empty ceiling, covered in dust.

The Nightmares? Pitch wouldn't put it entirely past them if they thought the high place would put Jack out of reach of something harmful. Pitch sometimes thought the Nightmares were fonder of Jack then they were of him as their Master but he’d had nothing to complain about... yet. 

“What if you had fallen? That would not have been pleasant for either of us I believe. Have you already forgotten last week?”

Briefly debating the fuss and tantrums that shoes would create, Pitch set the boy on the ground. “No more climbing the book cases, that goes for -all- of you,” making sure to glare at the dark corners for the creatures he knew were nearby.

It was a few more instances of Jack being where Jack shouldn't be (and even more bluntly, Jack babbling about Wind and high up and games) for Pitch to understand what was going on.

How in the deepest abyss did someone discuss Child Safety with a puff of air? It had simply never occurred to Pitch that the little wind, at first hardly strong enough to ruffle hair or clothing hems, could grow right alongside with Jack until it could lift the boy right up into the air. 

Well. Now he knew and there would be a very firm discussion about it right this minute.

…hopefully it would go better than the discussion about shoes.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

“Daddy? Daddy! Daddy, I fell!”

Pitch scooped the young boy up onto his lap, not paying much attention since Jack sounded perfectly fine. Must not have been a very hard fall. But worthy of a good hug none the less.

“Daddy! I fell!”

“Mmhmm,” kissing the top of Jack’s head and snuggling the small boy close.

“DADDY!”

“Yes Jack, I hear you.” Pitch finally looked down at the small pouting face. “…ah. That kind of fall.” 

It was not the first time Jack had been injured, not with almost a hundred years under his belt. Pitch was used to the fact Jack did not bleed as a child (mortal or immortal) usually did, not getting the usual scrapes and bruises either. Instead, Jack just sort of... dented. Cracked. Like now, spreading out across Jack’s left cheek and up the side of his face were a series of cracks, some light and some deep and an imprint of what looked like the corner of a table. 

Pitch studied it for a moment, fighting to keep himself looking calm. Jack was not worried, so Pitch would not give him any reason to become alarmed. It was nothing at all. 

“Alright, let’s go fix this. And what were you doing this time?”

“Nothing.”

“Of course. Terrible creatures those Nothings, always lying in wait to injure rambunctious little boys who are merely standing around not getting into any trouble at all.”

Jack just laughed as Pitch carried him off, even if the grip was tighter than usual.

A bit of snow and an icicle to suck on, it would be fine. The cracks would absorb the snow and seal up and Jack’s fair skin would be as smooth and unblemished as before. It was fine. 

Far easier than the time Jack had managed to smash half his foot carrying a far too heavy rock. Though that had made Jack more amendable to wearing shoes when going outside, so Pitch would almost consider it a win if he could get past the whole traumatic experience. JACK had been fine, he’d wanted to know if it could be cut off for a peg leg and could he get a parrot and a ship and a big black flag and go hunting for treasure like in the stories?

It was hard to argue safety with someone who not only seemed to have no real bones to break or blood to spill, but also the equivalent of being five years old. They believed themselves invincible.

How human children survived was beyond Pitch’s understanding. He barely understood how JACK survived and HE had a herd of Nightmares and Pitch to watch over him. It was a mystery almost as annoying as trying to figure out how Jack could get so incredibly dirty in such a short amount of time.

“It’s a lost cause I’m afraid,” wiping at Jack’s face with a soft cloth to not only make sure the cracks had all vanished, but to try and remove a layer or two of the filth. “You are just going to have to take a bath.”

“Noooooo, I don’ wanna!”

“Then you should have taken better care not to get so dirty.” Pitch lifted the boy from his seat on the table, taking his hand to walk him towards the bathing room. Thankfully he’d only have to listen to the protests until Jack was actually in the water, then Jack would be too busy trying to drown his toys.

Blood thirsty child, what had penguins ever done to him? …other than that one time… actually, maybe the penguins did deserve to be drowned.

Pitch had to keep a close eye on fingers and toes, they would only react like human skin would for so long before Jack actually started to disolve in the water. That called for an immediate evacuation and a careful drying off in a cold room. But Pitch had it down to an art now, he knew exactly how long Jack could play, how long he’d fight being washed, and how long Pitch himself could stand being drenched in water so cold ice bobbed about in the tub. 

“Daddy?”

“Close your eyes Jack, I do not wish to get soap in them.”

“Daddy, will you hold my tooth?”

“I… what?” Pitch was not sure how he had managed to miss that, Jack’s fist clenched around the tiny object. He took the tooth and held it up for a closer look. A perfectly shaped, pure white tooth. “Did this happen when you fell? Why did you not say something?”

“It didn’ hurt and I want to see a fairy. Can I see a fairy? The fairies in the books come for teeth right? And fairies are pretty and nice and give you things for teeth?”

Pitch winced. And after some more thinking, cringed. “You do not want to replace it, and keep the tooth a while longer?” Could work. If he could smooth out a crack in Jack’s face, surely a tooth would be just as easy.

“Nooooo, I wanna see a fairy!”

“I believe we might be a bit outside of their territory, we live far away from all the.. fairies.”

“Too far?” Oh no, not the eyes. Not those big blue eyes looking up at Pitch and slowly filling with tears. But if the ToothFairy had Jack’s first baby tooth, then she’d know. She’d have questions and demands and could get the other Guardians involved.

But as the first tear slid down Jack’s face, Pitch felt his resolve crumbling. Surely he could find some way around this puzzle. Like… mmmmm… Pitch didnit need a -fairy- to switch out a tooth for a coin.

Using a thumb to wipe away the tear- “No, not too far away. Though remember, you have to be asleep for the fairies to come, you won’t see them. You’ll just wake up and find that your tooth has been exchanged for a shiny trinket. You’re not -supposed- to see them.”

Wouldn't be the first time a parent swapped their child’s tooth for money without any involvement of the supernatural. This would be easy.

 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

“This is not something I can just ignore! You have a child locked away in these gloomy caves-“

Pitch tried not to grind his teeth too loudly. One moment, ONE moment of letting his guard down.. and a nosy little fairy had slipped under his guard. Pitch had, while waiting for Jack to fall asleep, fallen asleep himself. And now he had to suffer the consequences.

“Jack is perfectly happy down here, and I resent you calling my home ‘gloomy’, Toothiana. This is my son and I will raise him how I see fit.”

The bird woman twisted her fingers together, features screwed up in a grimace. “I had thought it a mistake when they brought me the tooth, such a pretty pristine and lovely tooth, that I had to come make sure. And now I know you have a small child. I can’t… what will I tell North? Does Sandy know? I know Jack is happy with you, the memories don’t lie and I had to peek because it was just so strange and I know you love the boy and he loves you and if Manny REALLY gave him to you then there shouldn't be a problem but-“

“Toothiana, I am not asking you to ignore Jack’s existence now that you know of him. It would be good for the boy to know other people. All I ask is that you NOT tell the other Guardians. YOU came barreling in even with the knowledge that he is fine, North and that blasted Rabbit would not be so kind. Would you see my son taken from me?”

“You are not known for your kindness towards children, you should understand how they would worry…”

“Worry, yes. But they would not just worry, they would take Jack from me, or label him evil as well. Jack is too young to deal with that sort of mentality. Let him grow first.”

“I… don’t like keeping secrets from my friends…”

“Hardly a secret if they do not ask,” trying to lower his voice into something more soothing. As if this was Jack needing to be coaxed into trying something new. 

That the ToothFairy was hesitating, that she had come without telling the others first, was in his favor. 

“Would you like to meet Jack?”

“…yes!”


	6. Chapter Five

_Chapter Five_

 

“I want to do it! By myself!”

Pitch tried not to sigh or even roll his eyes, but backed off quietly to let the child do as he pleased. Where he got such stubbornness Pitch would never know. 

Jack, tongue sticking between his teeth, lifted the heavy ball of snow and stretched way up on his toes to place it on the other round forms. He almost missed. He almost fell right into the snowman. Instead he turned to look back at Pitch with a wide, beaming smile. 

“Told you I could do it!”

“I never doubted you for a moment. You have an hour before the sun begins to rise, is that enough time for you to finish your snowman?” Pitch held out a pair of slender sticks, the designated arms.

But instead of taking the stick arms Jack wrapped his arms around Pitch’s hips, it was as high as he could reach, and shook his head. “No! I want to make an army! Hundreds of snowmen to rule the world!”

“You can make as many snowmen as you want within the next hour, and then we must head home.”

“I don’t WANT to go home.” The bright smile vanished as Jack started to sulk, arms sliding out of the hug but grabbing fistfuls of Pitch’s robe. “I want to stay here and play! I want to hear the birdies and see the deer and... and… the bunnies!”

Taking a clenched fist in each hand, Pitch knelt down so they could see eye to eye. He knew Jack was frustrated with the time limit in going out to play, but it couldn’t be helped. Not now.

“We’ve talked about this Jack. If people knew we were here, they would get upset. If they saw you they would think you in danger and take you away. You need to be patient and wait a little while longer. Can you do this for me? I promise, you’ll get to play outside all that you wish when you are older.”

“Mama Tooth would let me play.”

“Queen Toothiana is not your mother and has no say in this matter. She can only tell the baby Toothfairies what to do.” Every time Jack called Toothiana ‘Mama’ Pitch wanted to twitch. And throw something. 

Jack kicked at some snow, looking sulky.

“What if instead, I took you to see the great crystal caverns, where they grow two and three times the height of me?”

Pitch knew it was going to be a long, long night when Jack only muttered “we’d have to leave after an hour.”

 

\--------------------------------------

 

It was almost like a picture. A photograph of a skinny, pale boy in a black cloak and bare feet staring at a small golden man on a cloud of sparkling sand, who was eyeing him right back. Neither moved for such a long moment that it could have been painted on canvas.

Jack hadn’t –meant- to mess with the golden streams of sand; it had just been too pretty to resist and surely one little touch couldn’t hurt… 

That he now had a golden armored horse prancing around him, some sort of shining parody of his Nightmare Nanny, was... unexpected. 

“….I gotta go home now. Byebye!” Jack fled from the scene of the crime, followed by that traitorous non-Nightmare. Ohhhh was Daddy going to be mad at him. Jack wasn’t supposed to wander off! Or attract attention! But it had been so PRETTY like Mama Tooth’s feathers without being feathers and- “GAH!”

Jack yelped as the world went sideways and upways and why was the ground so far away now? Realizing he was hanging in the air with a long rope of gold sand around his waist-

“DADDYYYYYYY!”

It was just what Pitch had always wanted, to hear his son scream out in terror. That and finding Jack being juggled far too high off the ground by golden sand that was being blasted apart with splotches of ice. 

Sandy was desperately trying NOT to drop the child-spirit but the boy was making it very difficult with his flailing. And since reasoning over the screams of said child and the howling wind was not going to be possible, Sandy eventually managed to knock him out with Dream Sand.

Only to then be bowled over by a big black horse. 

“Leave my son alone Sanderson, I thought better of you than to pick on a child!”

Pitch scooped up the unconscious Jack from his tangle of golden rope, keeping a good number of Nightmares between him and the Star. Tiny golden Nightmares hovered around Jack’s head even as Pitch tried to swat them away. 

Pitch had been arguing against himself for decades about Mansnoozie; he was generally a laid-back, relaxed sort of being, but he was also the only being Pitch knew could take him down.

And as Sandy rolled out the golden whips, Pitch felt his stomach drop into his feet. A highly uncomfortable feeling, one that he was not sure he’d ever felt before. But the description was apt. 

“It is not what you think. This is my son, not some stolen child. Before you make any hasty assumptions, I would request you speak to Queen Toothiana, she has known about Jack for some time now and even allows him to visit her castle. I am not causing anyone harm.” Tempting as it was to just flee, it would only look suspicious. Pitch half turned away from Sandy to keep the unconscious Jack out from the line of attack.

Sandy was not an idiot, he could see how protective Pitch was being. And how often had he seen the Nightmare King afraid? The child was obviously well cared for and healthy, or else his dreams would not be.. Nightmares dancing with.. toothfairies?

And speaking of, WHY was a large –golden- Nightmare also pacing protectively in front of the pair? 

Sandy slowly lowered his weapons as all these thoughts ran through his head, narrowed eyes catching the relieved droop of Pitch’s shoulders.

 

\----------------------------------------------

 

“Not quite, move your hands a little further apart. Yes, just like that.” Repositioning Jack’s hands on the long staff, Pitch guided him through a basic high block and low block while standing behind him. Jack was concentrating very hard, almost glaring at the staff in his hands and tongue between his teeth.

Pitch had no intentions in giving such a clumsy child a sword or anything at all with a point. A staff would be just fine to protect him should Jack run into anything dangerous. If the Nightmares didn’t eat whatever it was first. Or Toothiana’s fairies. Or that giant golden Dream Horse that refused to go away.

Pitch backed away a few feet to make sure Jack’s feet were correct. Poor boy was in the middle of a growth spurt, all long limbs like a young deer and constantly tripping over his feet with the protests that shoes made him MORE clumsy, not less.

“Good. Now try to block mine as I- No, I am not going to hit you Jack. I am going to move very slowly.”

Looking at Jack’s dubious face, Pitch chuckled at him. “You asked to learn so I will teach you. I will not be trying to hurt you Jack, but you will need to pay attention.”

“But do we have to do this EVERY day?”

“Until I am satisfied with your progress.”

“Every day for -ever-.”

“If you insist.” Pitch had to smile at the look on the boy’s face. Clearly Jack hadn’t thought this through when asking for the lessons, but too late to go back now. Pitch knew there would come a day Jack would get himself into trouble and Pitch wouldn’t be around to help him out. He could feel it in his bones that Jack was doomed to forever be involved in some sort of mischief. 

“Now when you… do you hear something?”

"Bells?"

"Oh for...”

"SANTA CLAUS!"

"NICHOLAS ST NORTH, GO HOME! "

Sadly, the Full Name of Fury did not work on adults (for the most part) only on rotten little boys like Jack who was beaming up at the giant man in red with his sack of toys, just like Mama Tooth had described him. And – 

"Now now, a little birdy told me that there was a little boy in need of a Christmas Present here. Who am I to disappoint one of my believers?" North grinned down at the boy, who had turned to look at Pitch with such hope in his eyes.

Pitch was going to throttle a fairy. 

“You are supposed to wait until the children are –asleep-,” the only argument he had that was also fit for Jack’s ears.

“Bah, he is a spirit, rules can be bent. Introduce us Pitch!”

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

Jack bit his lower lip as Pitch slowly placed the small creature into his raised hands. Any harder, and Pitch was sure he’d bite right through the flesh.

“It’s alright Jack, look. Not a single bit of frost. You’re doing very well.”

Jack just continued to look petrified, holding the animal away from him while still cupping it securely in his hands so it didn’t fall to the hard ground.

“Relax, you’re doing just fine.” Pitch folded the boy’s arms until the fluffy creature was against his chest instead out of in the air. “See? Hold it closer to you; it doesn’t like to be held out so high.”

It had taken years to get to this point, and Jack was still sure he was about to murder the small animal horribly but Pitch had faith in his control.

Hesitating, Jack slowly rubbed his cheek over the fluffy head. The tension started to ease out of his shoulders and Pitch could finally see a small smile. He didn’t know why Jack was so fascinated with rabbits, why not a nice wolf or cat?, but he’d finally caved in on his No Pets rules. 

It had been the driving force for making Jack willingly learn how to rein in his natural chill anyways.

“It’s so -soft-,” Jack breathed, almost tucking the pure white hare right under his chin to cuddle the creature. 

“You must remember to feed it,” cautioned Pitch. “And that it will need some sort of sunlight and fresh air now and then, you cannot keep it in the dark forever. This does mean you will be able to visit Queen Toothiana more often, and Sanderson’s island, but that is with the expectation that you will be careful. Remember your limits and it will be fine.”

They didn’t need for Jack to start melting again and lose the precious growth that had taken so long for Jack to gain.

But… Rabbits. Why -rabbits-? Maybe when the rabbit died he could get Jack something a little more respectable. Like a nice polar bear. Or an owl. Something that was not a -rabbit- and far too much like a certain Alien. 

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

“Alright Jack, you got this.” Jack rubbed his hands together, looking up at the sky. “You can STOP spreading the snow and ice, which means you can MAKE it snow and ice. Easy as that.”

He remembered being able to make it snow when he was small, so he knew he could do it. He’d just been practicing NOT doing it for so long he’d forgotten how!

“Okay. So if imagining the snow contained within myself was the block, then I just have to imagine snow outside.” The tendency to mutter at himself was an old, old habit. It helped clear his mind and make decisions and really, it was fun to make silly voices for the Nightmares.

Imagine it snowing. Outside. Like there were clouds up above and they were raining little cold specks of happiness. Which is what happened when it snowed, snow made people happy. Ever make a Snow-mare? And got it critiqued by the originals? Yeah, that had been a fun night.

“What the hell you think you’re doing kid?!”

Aaaand concentration gone. Jack’s mental picture of a soft little snowfall was shattered and the magic he had been so carefully luring out erupted with the force of an avalanche. 

Not.. far from the truth as the air went from chilly and bright, to dark and freezing and wow those were a lot of clouds. 

“Ahhh… Whelp... Better get undercover, this is going to get nasty, Mr…” damn that was a big rabbit. Jack blinked a few times at the creature that stood as tall as his dad, taller if you counted the ears. A very large, angry looking rabbit. OH! The Easter Bunny! AND HE WAS SO FLUFFY!

“You shouldn’t interrupt someone when they’re doing magic, you know. It’s rude and it causes bad things to happen. Would think someone old like you would know that,” scratching at his head as he watched the clouds overhead get bigger and darker and wow was that the sun coming up? How long HAD Jack been at this? Would explain why he felt a little light headed and dizzy.

“I am going to wring your scrawny neck,” hissed the rabbit and Jack was suddenly wondering if he wasn’t late for something at home. Or somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Jack threw himself to the ground as the Rabbit threw a curved stick at him. “HEY! It’s just a little storm, no big deal!”

“No big… Ruining Easter is a very big deal brat!”

Sitting back up was a bad idea. There was pain and an angry rabbit and and Jack didn’t feel so good… Maybe he’d just lay here a little longer. Sleep. That... yeah... slee…..

 

\-------------------------

 

Pitch stared at Sandy, skin tinged more green than grey. He could barely collect his thoughts together long enough to rasp “it was lodged in his head. It was -lodged in his head-. I found the Nightmares running off the Pooka, and Jack was just laying there.. and it..”

The Nightmare King buried his head in his hands, fingers shaking as they gripped at his hair.

Jack was so small and still in the bed, not bandaged but surrounded by snow and ice and Pitch couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d found his son and the way the boomerang had to be removed from the back of his head and he wasn’t sure if this was going to cause permanent damage or not.

Cracks and dents he’d dealt with all Jack’s life, even a few crushed toes. This had almost removed the top of Jack’s -head-. 

Squeaks and fast moving feathers announced Toothiana’s arrival and her entourage of tiny fairies. “Is he.. is he okay? The Nightmare wasn’t very clear and… oh dear.”

Pitch didn’t know what Sandy was saying with his little pictures, but he could feel the small hand settling comfortingly on his shoulder in a light hug. 

The sudden cheer in Toothiana’s voice was jarring, but Pitch welcomed the escape from his thoughts. 

“He’ll be right as rain in no time! Remember when he fell out of the Tooth Palace and had to stay in bed for a whole week while mending? Or when he melted off a few inches of height on Sandy’s island? This will be a piece of cake! He’ll wake up and whine about all of us hovering and try to sneak out every hour or so.”

She was on his other side now, mirroring Sandy. “And I have news Pitch, the Snow Queen heard of our little Jack, and wants to know if there is anything she can do to help. I thought, if you and Jack agreed, perhaps he should take a season or two out there with her and learn to use his gifts.”

Pitch let the chatter roll over him, picking out a word here and there to ponder over. Jack could use a proper teacher, Pitch was useless in this regard of magic. What did he know about creating ice and snow? If Jack had been better taught perhaps he could have protected himself against the Pooka.

He startled the large fairy into silence as he suddenly laughed, heavy with bitterness. “Fitting I suppose. I took his family from him, so he tries to take mine.”

“Bunny is a good person. Just… protective of his Holiday?” It came off more as a question, Tooth biting at her lips.

“He is a Guardian of Children, and he just tried to murder one.”

He felt the wince that both Sanderson and Toothiana made and it didn’t make him feel better.


	7. Chapter Six, The End

_Chapter Six_

Jack lifted the rabbit to eye level. “Never saw a rabbit with green eyes before...”

“I think Mother Nature thought it a nice little joke with the coloring, but she thought something a little more resistant to cold magic would suit you. And since your previous pet was a bunny...” Pitch glared at the creature. “Anyways, it’s a gift. She heard how your studies have been going with the Snow Queen and that you’ve been given some responsibilities. Thought you’d like some company on your first trip out on your own.”

Pitch held his tongue on the fact that he did not want this creature near Jack, re-formed and muted as he was. Manny and Mother Nature had decided to punish the Easter Bunny by making him tiny and helpless and then give him to Jack to 'walk in his shoes'.

Pitch wanted to grab that creature from Jack’s arms and send it to the darkest pit available for what it had done to his son, but he’d not been given a choice in the matter.

“It’ll be fine Dad. I’ll be back before you know it.” Jack continued to hold the rabbit out instead of cuddling it close. His last pet rabbit had been the sweetest little arctic hare but… he looked uncertain. As if he expected it to lunge out and bite at him.

Pitch would ring his neck if he did.

Pitch locked his hands behind his back to remove the murderous temptation, and eyed the crooked ice-pin at Jack's cloak collar and the wrinkles in the fabric. Should he be worried about Jack’s penchant for black clothes? Not like he had much a role model. Pitch wore all black, the Nightmares were all black, the caves and tunnels and cages were all black...

Now that he thought about it, Jack’s whole life had been black and white between the catacombs and his ice playground. 

“Dad.” 

That didn’t mean Jack’s thinking was all black and white, Pitch had worked on hard on making sure Jack had a more flexible view on the world. Not that it had helped with the Easter Bunny but it would help with the others. Mostly. Jack was more prepared now, thanks to the attack. 

“Dad, I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will be. I’m just… thinking.”

“Worrying.”

“I am allowed to do so, I am your father.” Pitch gave in to the more innocent urge and smoothed down the wrinkles in Jack’s cloak, making it lay flat. Skinny, pale Jack in his black cloak and clothes, blue eyes beginning to sparkle once more with barely repressed excitement. 

Jack would be just fine out there. Pitch could not keep him locked away forever, not without resentment and bitterness taking over. It was time for Jack to leave the nest.

Pitch was going to miss the little boy he could carry in his arms so much.

 

\----------------------------------

 

“I knew it was you.” Jack tossed a pebble off the side of the cliff. The bright and beautiful tundra stretched out below. Miles and miles of perfect snow. Beautiful.

“You weren’t supposed to know, Mother Nature wanted it that way.” Bunnymund crouched down next to him, after so many months being pint-sized it almost made him dizzy to be so tall. Easter was in a month, and he had a lot do to but he couldn’t leave just yet.

Being the companion of the Winter Spirit had opened his eyes wide, and Bunnymund was honestly ashamed of himself. 

“Come on, I’m not stupid. Pitch has never liked rabbits, but he utterly loathed you. Mother Nature decides to give me a pet that is an exact, tiny replica of the Easter Rabbit? You adults are not as subtle as you might believe. -Especially- North.”

Bunny started to scratch at an ear with a hind paw and quickly slapped it back to the ground. Fingers, he had fingers now. “…I’m sorry Jack. For all of it.”

“Because you were forced to follow me around everywhere and now will have to work like mad to get your holiday going?”

“Because I was wrong.”

“And really grateful I never kept you in a cage?”

“…yeah. That too. You’re not going to let me be serious about this are you?”

“Nope. Makes my skin itch and it’s hard to be serious with a guy you’ve been petting like a lapdog for the last three months.”

“Touché.”

The pair sat there quietly on the edge of the frozen plain. They might not be friends exactly, but Bunny wouldn’t try to kill him and Jack wouldn’t try to blizzard over Easter Sunday.

No guarantees about Pitch, those two had a history longer than Jack could memorize and Jack respected that. He wasn’t going to be expecting Bunny to be joining them for dinner any time soon.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Now? I go home and see how Dad’s fared over the winter. That’s a long time to be spent worrying, think he’s gone a bit grey-haired? And according to the Snow Queen I have a nice long nap ahead of me. So I’ll see you in the autumn, hmm?”

"Let me get through Spring first. ...if you feel like it, maybe I can give you a tour of the Warren. Later. ”

Jack grinned, and gave the giant hare a cheeky salute before he jumped off the cliff. He let little brother Wind catch him and take him home. Time to relax and maybe read a book while Pitch made sure he was still in one piece. 

Jack couldn’t wait till next winter.

 

_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, maybe more of a teaser than an introduction. I'll be updating slowly on this to get all my ice cubes in order, once a week sound fair? It's a bit.. bigger than the Bye Bye Birdy series.


End file.
